The Merriment of the Manslaughter of the Master of Death
by Stuck in the Oubliette
Summary: The Boy-Who-Lived is dead, Fate's plan for Harry Potter has fallen around her like a house of cards, and Death has all four aces tucked up his sleeve. It's his turn now, to see Harry Potter's life through til the end... ... Or, in which the Boy-Who-Lived dies and goes to Hogwarts. Warnings: slash, underage!Harry, probably going to be majorly creepy, and bashing.
1. Prologue

**Prologue  
**

**_"Faust is the protagonist of a classic German legend; a highly successful scholar but one dissatisfied with his life who therefore makes a pact with the Devil, exchanging his soul for unlimited knowledge and worldly pleasures." (Wikipedia)_**

Faust, perhaps, is not the most accurate name for _our_ protagonist. You see, _our _Faust never made a pact; he never grew old enough to. Because our Faust died the night he lived.

As the wizards and witches of Britain celebrated the abrupt end of a dark lord—and as Britain's neighbors celebrated with relief the end of a possible international threat—their beacon of light was being carted through the frigid October air on an airborne motorbike. The giant who drove said motorbike had been expelled from school before even taking his OWLs; he could start a fire and ward off dark creatures, but Rubeus Hagrid had never learned a simple heating charm. Albus Dumbledore might've been able to trust his groundskeeper to deliver the infant, but he made his biggest mistake to date when he did little more than glance over the child before leaving him alone with nothing but a blanket for warmth and a letter for relatives the boy wouldn't live to meet.

Fate reshuffled her deck with a huff; Dumbledore cost her quite a bit of planning, and wasted her turn to boot. She'd had the child's life planned up to him being married and having children, and all it would have taken is the right kind of prodding. However, her companion smiled. It was Death's turn now.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, died that night on a muggle doorstep. And thus, Faust was born.


	2. Hogwarts Express

**A/N: Thanks to Sakura Hanamoto! Your review was wonderful and encouraging and fabulous:D And thanks to everyone who reviewed or sent a message or followed tMotMotMoD; I love having your support! *Gives everyone peaches***

**Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, he'd be shagging Lucius Malfoy, and Ron Weasley would have been murdered by the killer tree. Clearly, I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I making money with this, so please don't sue me:D**

**...**

**Chapter One**

"So, after Death—well, I call him Mephistopheles, or just 'Stopheles mostly, since I'm named after Faust and I saw an opera about him and his Mephistopheles was, like, almost as good to him as mine is to me—took me to his castle, I was raised with the imps (that's what we call the little reapers-to-be, since a lot of humans mistake them for demons). I got separate tutors for a couple of things, though, since reapers are taught to reap and I needed to know more than that. It was nice living down there, and since 'Stopheles declared that I was his person (he has a few of those, but he tells me I'm his favorite) I was treated great. He even used his magic to age my dead cells so that I continued to grow, although he had to stop after a dozen and one years; that's the Rule. Now he's even letting me come up here, since I asked him to see the sunlight. But he even—"

"Alright, alright!" the witch interrupted as the black-haired teen stared at her with little expression, "If you didn't want me to know, you should have just said so!" And with that, the rather buck-toothed girl left, unkempt hair in tow.

_~That must be a record, Lord,~ _Cosmo crowed, head bobbing in the creature's version of laughter. His flaxen crown of feathers shook with the movement.

"She irritated me," Faust explained, "Asking personal questions is rude. She has terrible manners."

_~Says the boy who chased her off.~_

"I told the truth! She didn't believe me—that's her fault," the teen defended. He prided himself on his knowledge of proper etiquette; chasing off a woman, even a dull mudblood, _wasn't_ proper.

_~I merely jest, Lord. If your answer troubled her, she should have interrupted properly and spoke over you, rather than cutting off the answer she asked for.~_

"Indeed," Faust smirked. Cosmo was right; if the girl felt offended at his answer, she should have just spoken over him and said so, instead of interrupting him.

The vulture shifted his neck back and preened at the acknowledgement as his master chuckled at the odd-looking expression. Cosmo had been a leaving gift from Mephistopheles; vultures alone were able to travel between the worlds of the living and the dead, and the bird would be able to bring Faust's letters back and forth with little effort. It had been a sweet gesture, and the teen had grown especially fond of the golden-feathered thing.

_~Perhaps, Lord, you wish to change? I've no idea when we'll arrive, but I believe the silly chit mentioned something about robes.~_

Faust scowled. "Yes, those horrid things. I know. I was informed that they weren't required until school began; this is a sorting." He glanced down at his own clothes.

'Stopheles often stressed the importance of appearances—Faust had even been taught a couple of metamorphmagus-mimicking tricks—and the teen's wardrobe was fine and expensive. Now, he wore a cravat with a gold-plated iron and diamond bauble and a white dress shirt with little plated buttons and cufflinks, arms rolled up to just above his elbows. His black vest ended in the front at his waist, but fell to his knees in the back. Tight, tailored pants clung to his legs, the left thigh encased in two iron plates, once more done in gold, strapped down with leather; it was a mark of his status. In Mephistopheles' realm, iron was highly valued because of its magic-resistant nature, and gold-plated iron finery—provided by the goblins of course—was expensive and often sought out.

Slightly heeled, buckled shoes added an inch to his short height, and leather bands adorned various parts of his ensemble; one never knew when an extra tie-piece might come in convenient. His short top hat had a white silk band around the top that ruffled slightly and drew in tighter towards the front, where a small collection of gold-plated gears held it secure. His matching white gloves were charmed not to collect dirt or stain.

Faust knew he looked good, and knew, more importantly, that Mephistopheles approved of his outfit; it was one of his better ones, after all. However, the one thing that 'Stopheles didn't like was the teen's glasses. Practically goggles, they were held onto his head by an adjustable leather strap and connected in the front by a thin wire. The lenses themselves were set about half an inch from his face and traced in metal and leather that gave them a thick-framed look. A wire held them together over his nose, and a couple of smaller lenses lined up to the right of his face, their metal arms easily moved when he need increased magnification. They made Faust's eyes look twice their natural size, or so Mephistopheles said.

"I like this outfit," the boy continued, "If I'm going to be paraded in front of the school, I _will_ be wearing something I like."

Cosmo nodded in understanding. _~Yes, Lord. So long as no rules are broken, I concede my point.~_

"Even if rules were broken, you would concede your point, Cosmo," Faust said, his voice filled with fondness rather than disdain, despite the arrogantsentence. The bird's head bobbed in response, and the teen giggled at his own wit.

_~Clever.~ _

"Indeed," Faust retorted as the train sped on, "Indeed."

The train reached Hogsmeade soon after


	3. Awkward Boat Rides

**Chapter 2**

The boat ride interested Faust little; 'Stopheles' realm was set up on water, and had ferries like muggles had taxies. He kept Cosmo with him despite the giant—the same giant who'd resulted in his death, Mephistopheles had told him—protesting the large bird. Faust didn't care about inarticulate groundskeepers, he was keeping the vulture with him and that was that.

In the end, Cosmo ended up perched on the prow of the boat like a living figurehead. Naturally, his master got the next seat; the other two on board looked about ready to swim rather than ride with the great bird, much less sit next to him. Of course, both were only eleven, compared to Faust's fourteen years; he was being made to ride with them, since he had to be sorted as well.

He might as well make small talk.

"Hello." There, that sounded reasonable enough. Not in the least threatening. Faust felt proud of himself; he'd never been good at talking to children, even ones that were his own age.

"Hi," the girl replied, blushing. She looked almost frightened, and the teen felt a moment of confusion. He didn't understand her fear, but he tried to reassure her nonetheless.

"There's a giant squid in the lake," he said matter-of-factly, "If you fall in, he'll keep you from drowning."

All of the color drained from the little girl's face, and Cosmo began to bob his head in amusement. Faust looked between the two with confusion. What had he said? He'd told her that she wouldn't drown, even if she fell in the lake. Wasn't that good? Children! Bah, he didn't understand _children_!

_~Way to go, blockhead,~ _Cosmo sniped, _~You just told a little girl that there is a giant squid under her little rowboat. Utterly brilliant, you are.~ _

"Shut up, birdbrain!" Faust snapped, his head whipping around to face the vulture, "If I wanted to hear your opinion, I'd ask." The bird's head bobbed even more as his glee increased and the children looked at the teenager with a mixture of horror and fascination.

Cosmo didn't respond, but there was a shine in his eyes that showed his thoughts as plain as day. Faust's scowl deepened as he glared at the bird, and he carefully schooled his features before turning back to the first years. "I apologize for him. He has terrible manners." He couldn't understand their looks of disbelief, but left it alone; he wasn't all together fond of children, he decided.

The rest of the boat ride was rather quiet, what with the kids not talking to him and hardly whispering to each other. He lost all desire for any form of noise, though, once he saw the magnificent view that was Hogwarts. It wasn't as fine as 'Stopheles' castle—although he imagined it was quite grand for humans—rather, he admired the scene around the castle, the moon illuminating the grounds and stone in a pale sort of light. There was no moon underground.

The chatter all around him grew as the eleven-year-olds caught the first sight of the castle that would be their second homes for the next seven years. Faust felt a bubble of happiness well up within him; if the moon was this beautiful, how grand would the sunlight be as it hit this place? His lips parted in a soft smile. Mephistopheles was good to him, to let him come here, to expend the magic to age him so that he could get the most out of his time here. He'd died of cold on that porch as an infant, just a year old, and every year since then 'Stopheles had used the magic available to him—him being Death—to age the dead cells at a natural rate. It is a kind of magic that takes a lot of energy and time, and has specific rules, the main one being that once dead, a thing can only be aged a dozen and one years until it either must decompose or be "frozen" as it is at the end of the thirteenth year.

For Faust, the end of his thirteenth year fell on Halloween, but even Death couldn't age a dead human from such a distance, and the time between September the first and Halloween was discarded. 'Stopheles had implied that something special would be happening this year at Hogwarts, and the teen had taken the hint and decided to forfeit his remaining months so that he could attend this year rather than the next.

Now, looking at the moon peeking over a spindly tower, he was glad.

The boats arrived on land not long after Faust had finished his mental diatribe on the greatness and generosity of his Mephistopheles. The teen was surprised to find himself anxious and excited. He wasn't as surprised of the strong desire to have 'Stopheles there with him; he'd never been so separated from his lord.

But 'Stopheles wasn't there, and Faust would make the best of it, because he knew that his lord would be watching him from their realm, making sure that the teen was as happy as could be. The man doted on him, after all. Faust grinned at the thought.

_~Stop grinning like a lovesick fool,~ _Cosmo crowed, flapping his wings to pull himself up on land with his master, perching on the teen's shoulders carefully, _~We're to be going in now, lord.~_ Faust snorted at the respectful address tacked on after the insults.

"Yes, yes. One would think you were…_excited_, if they didn't know you better, Cosmo," the teen smirked.

The vulture didn't deign to respond to that, and the teen broke out into full laughter, garnering odd looks from passing children. Faust followed the crowd—who was in turn following the giant—into a large entry hall. Hagrid handed them over to a stern-faced woman in tartan robes.

"Welcome," she began, before leading into a rather intimidating speech about the following important ceremony and about houses and their point system. Faust, having heard most of this from the founders, whom 'Stopheles had called up specifically to educate the teen when it was known for certain that he was going to Hogwarts this year, tuned her out. Honestly, Salazar was much more interesting to listen to; the man was a great public speaker, and could appeal to people rather than merely stare them down.

Once she left, it became chaos.

The children merged together into a mass of little bodies and began "whispering" about the terrors their siblings had told them were involved in the sorting (in the case of wizarding children) and the terrors that they thought up (in the case of mudbloods). Faust wanted to outright laugh at most of it, but refrained; he would never admit it, but he was a tad nervous himself, despite knowing what lay ahead. Before he could fret too much, though, McGonagall was back.

It was time for the sorting.

**...**

**A/N: If anyone has any ideas for which house Faust (aka Harry) should be in, they should leave a review or PM me; I'm still not sure about it so help me out, k? :D It would be, like, totally awesome! **


	4. The Wrong House?

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the story, or gave an opinion on what Faust's house should be. I appreciate all of your feedback, and-believe it or not, Ripley-it really does help a lot. As for my decision, it will be explained in greater depth later. Bear with me for now, 'k? *Virtual peaches for everyone* Oh, and if anyone has any side pairings they'd like to see, or anything like that, let me know and if it works with the vague outline I've got planned, you might see it in the story:D**

**Chapter 3**

Cosmo took his cue and flew off as Faust and the children were ushered forwards. The bird looked forwards to a couple of hours to himself; he would have time now to associate himself with the other birds of the castle, and to assert himself over the littler ones. The vulture hadn't allowed himself to be pushed around in Mephistopheles' realm, and he wouldn't tolerate it here, either.

His master had made a similar decision, and had arranged himself to be the first one into the hall; he strode forwards with long strides—long, at least, compared to the children's—to the front of the room. The bewitched ceiling smelled like bitter peppermint, the smell of wizards' magic for sure, light wizards' magic. Faust would know; throughout his time in 'Stopheles' realm, he'd acquired a…nose for magic, one could say. At least, he could tell what kind of magic it was: wizards', creatures', or the dead sort of magic that could only be accessed in 'Stopheles' realm, and whether said magics were dark or light oriented.

And that delightful hint of mint coming from the dais must be the Sorting Hat that Salazar had told him about. He peered up at it from the bottom of the stairs and was a tad shocked to see it peering back._ Did it just wink at him?_

Before the teen could consider it, the ancient-looking thing broke into an amusing song about the four houses of Hogwarts. Salazar had spoken of this also; it was tradition at Hogwarts, to listen to the Hat's song at each sorting. Faust was intrigued, and imagined that it must be to inform the new mudbloods a little about the houses.

McGonagall began calling names, and the teen waited for her to reach the F's. 'Stopheles had answered the annual letter for "H. J. Potter" with the enrollment of Ignotus Faust (Ignotus because he needed a first name for the record, and he refused to use his plebian given name); according to the law, it was a legal name change. He'd hoped to avoid attracting "Boy-Who-Lived"-related attention.

Well, he'd hoped up until the moment that McGonagall finished the F's without calling for "Faust, Ignotus". This might be a problem.

Faust waited; there was little he could do now without drawing attention but hope that she'd merely missed his name, and the situation could be resolved without announcing to the student body at large that "Harry Potter" had come to Hogwarts. He didn't dislike attention—in fact, quite the opposite—however, he preferred his attention to come from people he liked, such as 'Stopheles or Salazar, rather than a random student who decides that he wants to be friends with the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Potter, Harry," McGonagall gasped.

_Well, time for plan B. _

He didn't respond to the woman's call.

"Potter, Harry," she tried again.

This time Faust answered, "That is not the name I am enrolled under, Professor. I was informed that the school had been made aware that I've had it changed."

The stern woman's head jerked up to peer at him with keen eyes. He knew immediately what she searched for, and held back a sneer eerily reminiscent of his favorite Founder. That thrice-damned scar! He could still smell the dark, choking scent of licorice sometimes, thanks to that nasty piece of work.

Confusion wrinkled her brow as he gaze dropped lower. Was she looking for his mother's eyes or his father's face? This time he did sneer; her behavior was inappropriate by far.

She'd be disappointed anyway. There was little pigment in his flat green eyes, a color far closer to a pale piece of jade than the emerald his mother's had been. His curly hair, too, he knew was more from the Black blood that used to pump through his veins than the Potters'. Faust liked to think his face was distinctly his own, especially without the scar. Mephistopheles liked to think so, too, when Faust wasn't wearing the glasses. 'Stopheles hated the glasses.

Shaking himself out of such thoughts, the teen glared at the professor until she looked away, abashed. The Sorting Hat's voice interrupted the horrid silence that had settled over the great hall.

"Well, are you going to come up here or not, _Mr. Faust_?" The teen thought back to when Salazar had told him that the Hat would be the smartest "person" in the room. Faust had assumed that he'd been exaggerating, as he was prone to do, but now he reconsidered. The deliberate use of his new name meant that there was little that the professors—or the meddling headmaster—could do to question the name change, since it meant that Hogwarts accepted it.

How convenient. He obeyed the order (something he normally would never do so meekly, unless it was 'Stopheles ordering him) and made his way up the steps and to the stool. Sitting primly, the teen removed his top hat and allowed a dumbstruck McGonagall to place the Sorting Hat on his head.

_'Well, well, well…what _have_ we here? You've had quite the life, haven't you, Faust?' _The teen was glad that the hat used his proper name; Ignotus was fine, but he still preferred the meaningful name that 'Stopheles had given him.

_'An interesting death, you mean.' _Faust quipped, smirking. _'I've not been truly alive since I was an infant, Hat.' _

_'Fair enough. Still though, such interesting thoughts you've had, it's quite refreshing.' _

_ 'Yes, yes, I'm very aware. I'm the one who _had _those thoughts, you know. Can we please get on with it; I have little desire to be ogled at all night by the entire student body.' _

The hat snorted. _'You're an impudent little thing, aren't you?' _

_ 'I was taught by the best, Hat… speaking of Salazar, he sends his regards.'_

This time the hat laughed out loud, before responding a moment later, _'I'm sure he does. I assume you wish to go to Slytherin then?' _

The teen's smirk grew. Sal had told him much of the house he'd founded. It had accommodations far nicer than the other houses—the other Founders had competed for space amongst the upper floors, leaving him the entire dungeons to choose from—and, in the common room, an entire wall that looked into the lake. Not to mention, Sal's biggest portrait hung in their common room as well; he would have easy access to his friend while at school. He looked forwards to it.

_'Yes.' _

"Well then, if you're sure." The hat paused maddeningly, "It better be…_HUFFLEPUFF!_"

The hall was dead silent as the long-missing Boy-Who-Lived, vanquisher of dark wizards and icon of the light, was sorted into the reject house. And, wait… was the teenager _laughing _about it? "Brilliant, Hat," he giggled, and began clapping.

His applause was met with the cheering of Prof Sprout and her badgers, who were eager to have a new housemate. Nothing was said, but the fact that someone who knew about the houses' reputations was seemingly happy to be placed in Hufflepuff had the entire lot glowing with pride. Faust wasn't going to be the one to tell them that his giddiness stemmed from amusement at the Hat's gall; he didn't want to be the fool who upset Helga's brood. If he dared, the woman would flay him alive once he arrived back in 'Stopheles' realm; she was loyal to a fault, after all.

Besides, he supposed it could be worse. He could've been in Gryffindor. If that had been the case, it would be twice as difficult to get into the Slytherin common room to talk to Sal. As a Hufflepuff, he imagined it couldn't be too difficult; Hufflepuffs were supposedly considered _harmless_ after all.

With this thought in mind, he approached the table situated between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and hoped no one was too eager to crowd the famous kid. It was unfortunate that his given name had been all but announced, but perhaps it was for the best. He would've had to deal with it sooner or later anyway.

His housemates _were _eager to meet him, but as he sat down—sitting amongst what appeared to be other fourth year students—he was surprised not to receive any questions related to his "Boy-Who-Lived" status. Peculiar… perhaps the Hat truly did know what it was doing, after all.


	5. Meeting the Puffs

**A/N: In case anyone is having trouble following the timeline, here's a summary: "Harry" dies and is taken in by Death (Mephistopheles) the Halloween after he turns a year old; he lives with Mephistopheles for almost thirteen years; he goes to Hogwarts when he is fourteen. He is a couple months older than year when Mephistopheles takes him, so he turns fourteen a couple of months before a full thirteen years in 'Stopheles' realm, if that was confusing anyone. If this author's note is confusing anyone, sorry; I'm bad at timelines. **

**Oh, and thanks for anyone who's stuck with me this far:D **

**...**

**Chapter 4**

Faust quickly became sure that the Hat knew exactly what he was doing, as he sat amongst the Hufflepuff and thought more about the situation. He could see the covetous looks that both Slytherin and Gryffindor were sending him, and the overly curious ones from the Ravenclaw table. He would have found little peace in the other houses.

Besides, it wouldn't be _too_ hard to get into the Slytherin common room; Sal would have no problem bullying whatever portrait guards the entrance. Slytherins, also, would hopefully react less…problematically to a Hufflepuff than to a Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, since Hufflepuffs were supposed to be duffers.

With that reassurance, it was easy to enjoy the Hufflepuffs' company; they didn't pry for personal information, nor did they pester him much at all, really. They talked amiably amongst themselves, and occasionally sent non-invasive questions Faust's way. It was almost nice.

"So, Ignotus… it is 'Ignotus', right?" an upper year, a prefect who'd introduced himself as Cedric asked politely. Faust had immediately liked Cedric; the boy hadn't looked for his scar, hadn't called him "Harry", and had made not one single comment towards his fame or his past.

"Please, call me Faust." When the older boy drew back slightly, Faust realized that his comment could be misconstrued. Typically, his status—far higher than anyone he sat with now, assuredly—left him unconcerned with creating distance between himself and those beneath him, however he did like Cedric. He explained, "I prefer it. Ignotus is…more recent."

Cedric smiled. "Alright, then, Faust," he paused, "What do you think of joining Hufflepuff?" He was the first one to broach the subject, and a couple of people sitting around them looked at Faust with interest, curious as to his response; most expected disappointment, since it was most common.

"I'd like to consider loyalty my foremost trait." The teen thought about 'Stopheles as he spoke; he doubted that there was anything he wouldn't do for him. Faust owed him a lot.

'Stopheles had always taken care of him, since he was little. Providing him a home, assuring that Faust's body would remain useable for the teen despite its lack of life, and just generally doting on the boy. No, there was little, if anything that Faust would deny his lord.

Cedric nodded at the teen's response, his smile widening. He seemed surprised when Faust continued. "I'm not going to lie, I was hoping for Slytherin, but this definitely beats Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. No offense to them, but I doubt that I would do well with either." He allowed a comically conspiratorial tone to slip into his voice, and flashed the older boy a winning smirk.

"Slytherin?" Cedric seemed surprised. "_Why?_" The prefect turned a spectacular shade of red immediately after the word left his lips, before smiling in a self-depreciating sort of way. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry. You don't have to answer, or anything."

Faust resisted the urge to make a snide comment; of course he didn't have to answer! Cedric was a wizard, and a young one at that; he held no power over Faust whatsoever. Still, he decided to answer anyway; he would be spending a year in this place after all, so he might as well make nice.

"The common room is supposed to be really nice, looks into the lake and everything. And I want to speak with Salazar. His portrait is in their common room."

"You know a lot about the Slytherin common room, Faust—can I call you that? I don't mean to eavesdrop, by the way." The girl who interrupted had long red hair, worn in plait down her back, and wore black robes (like everyone else, although none of the Hufflepuffs had asked about Faust's state of dress).

"Please, Faust is fine. Formalities are irksome at best," he added in his head, _'and there is little need for them when you're dead'_, but he didn't speak it out loud, "And yes, I'm quite close to a number of Slytherins." He really didn't want to deal with the entire "you're-dead-and-you-live-with-Death-himself conversation" tonight, so he left out the fact that his favorite Slytherin _is_ Salazar Slytherin.

Abruptly after the teen finished speaking, the headmaster stood, and Faust realized that the sorting must've ended while he talked with his new housemates. The man babbled on about forbidden places and painful deaths, both surprising and intriguing the teen. What kind of school kept deadly things within children's reach?

He'd heard plenty disparaging things about Headmaster Dumbledore, namely from the bit of Voldemort that had died when 'Stopheles had destroyed the diary that the ex- Reaper, Lucifer (who, through rather macabre means had become a pivotal figure in muggle religion, much to Mephistopheles' chagrin) had brought them. The bit had called itself Tom Riddle, and had been the largest individual piece of Voldemort's soul. The smell of licorice surrounding that diary exceeded by far the amount that had lingered in Faust's head, and once dead, Riddle had been very clear on exactly what he thought of Dumbledore. Faust had decided that, while exceedingly biased, the dead teen's claims might have some merit. Dumbledore's welcoming speech emphasized this point.

Perhaps Faust would have to visit this third floor corridor.

He had little time to plan, though, because after a few nonsensical words, food appeared and the redhead began to speak again, as Faust surveyed the selection of foods. "Yes, I agree completely; you won't see many formalities in Hufflepuff, anyway. I just didn't want to presume…" the girl paused, as if thinking, "Oh, I almost forgot, I'm Susan. Susan Bones. It's nice to meet you."

Faust nodded in response. His mind had just focused on something other than his newly met housemate though. "It's nice to meet you as well," he responded with a polite inclination of his head, before snapping his fingers loudly.

Susan and Cedric looked at him curiously, as well as a couple of other students sitting around them. A moment later, his plate disappeared and was replaced with a glass plate that looked almost as if it were made of ice. On top sat what two of what looked to be a sort of pastry, covered in a dollop of white cream with little pearly orbs garnishing the top. A small dish of beady-looking things matching the pearly garnish sat on the plate as well.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but what is that?" a boy asked curiously, gesturing towards Faust's plate.

"Ernie!" Cedric admonished, looking at the boy with a patiently exasperated expression.

The boy had the good grace to blush, before grinning abashedly at Faust. "Sorry. Just ignore me, yeah? I'm nosy."

Faust shrugged. He was glad not to be asked personal questions, but he wondered why they seemed so concerned with harmless inquiries. How were they supposed to learn anything about each other if they didn't ask some questions?

"I don't mind," he assured them. He was used to the imps asking about a lot of his food; he had a peculiar palate, thanks to 'Stopheles feeding him things that were more finery than food, and Salazar endorsing his eclectic diet. "I get it a lot, actually."

Cedric and Susan nodded understandingly, and Ernie perked up. Faust continued, "It's _blini_ with Crème Fraiche and Almas caviar, as well as the plain caviar set off to the side. It's my favorite; I suppose that's why Tipsy decided to prepare it for me. You see how the plate looks like ice? It's charmed to stay just as cold, so the caviar remains chilled." He paused, "You _always_ want the caviar to remain chilled."

Ernie wrinkled his nose. "Caviar? Like fish eggs? No thanks!"

Cedric commented, "Thank you for explaining, Faust, that will be brilliant to know should I ever decide to eat caviar." He sounded sincere, too.

Faust had already finished off one _blini_ and the dab of caviar he'd placed on the side of his hand to eat plain, when Susan spoke, "Isn't Almas caviar expensive? My auntie talks about it sometimes, when they serve it at charity events hosted by older families. The Malfoys seem to have it a lot; it's supposed to be really good."

The boy didn't know what to say to that. He'd never thought about the price of it before; he paid for nothing, after all, and he was pretty sure that 'Stopheles owned about a seventh of Gringotts internationally, when it was all said and done. Price had never been an issue for anything, really; the dead weren't expensive, and there was income that came in from 'Stopheles business dealings and associates in this realm that paid for any upkeep. In short, Faust had never wanted for anything, so long as he could remember.

"I don't know," he said with a shrug, "I never asked."

Susan nodded and the subject switched as their conversation continued, with input from Cedric or Ernie alternately, and once from a girl named Hannah. Sometimes they discussed Quidditch teams and Faust mostly ignored them in favor of his food, although mostly they discussed classes. Both Salazar and various alumni he knew briefed him about the classes at Hogwarts, but it was convenient to hear about the subjects and teachers from current students.

Apparently, Professor Snape hated children on principle, although slightly less if they wore green and silver; Professor Flitwick was friendly and humorous; Professor Sprout was nice, helpful, and their head of house; and McGonagall was strict, but fair. Hufflepuffs also apparently took most of their classes with Ravenclaws. It was all easy enough to remember, and might be helpful, so Faust memorized it.

Soon enough, though, the feast was over, and Cedric began to lead the first years, plus Faust, to their common room. It was near a still life painting of a bowl of fruit, which, the teen noted, smelled heavily of peppermint; he surmised that it must be a passage of sorts. Cedric led them to a stack of barrels, and instructed them on how to enter—by specifically tapping the second barrel from the bottom. The barrel, too, smelled like mint; Faust had a feeling he'd be smelling that quite a bit, from now on.

Still, it beat licorice, he supposed. He had no particular grudge against dark wizards' magic, but its smell disgusted him. Peppermint was bearable, but he was glad that the magic he relied on most was the magic that he'd received in death. The magic of the dead smelled like muggle cologne, he knew because he'd smelled plenty of cologne during an unfortunate, accidental trip to a "department store" during his twelfth year.

He shook his head of such unpleasant thoughts, and focused instead on getting to his dormitory. He'd be bunked with the fourth year boys—including Ernie, Cedric informed him—because that was the year he'd be joining. As he settled into bed, drawing the curtains shut, he wished that he had someone with him; he needed little sleep, but when he did sleep, he hated being alone in bed.

Living in 'Stopheles palace, he'd always had at least Sal to stay with him at night, when 'Stopheles was too busy to come home. But he had trouble sleeping without the smell of cologne-scented magic around him; 'Stopheles, who'd reeked with the stuff, had always been his preferred pillow. Now, the room smelled of peppermint and Faust felt a sudden burst of homesickness.

Curling into the blankets and willing his magic to fill the darkened space around him—it smelled almost like home, although not as strongly as he was, in a way, partially alive—Faust was distracted by the feel of parchment beneath his fingertips. The curtains on his bed were still closed well, and he sat up, summoning a light with a snap of his fingers.

The parchment read:

_My Faust,_

_ Do you miss me? I miss you as well, believe it or not. I find myself growing more and more glad of my decision to gift you that vulture—Cosmo, as you call him. Still, I wish to have you beside me. Are you glad that I'm weak enough to feel your absence? _

_ Who am I kidding? Of course you are. I'm laughing now, at myself; isn't that strange? Death laughs! _

_ I know that when you see this, you'll probably be tired. I'll keep it short. I cannot visit much, not nearly enough, but there are those who can. I will be sending Lucifer—he's far too conspicuous for reaping, after the religious fiasco with the muggles—and there is a boy at your school named Flint. Flint will answer to you, and Lucifer will do better than that if he wishes to keep his head. _

_ I hope you are happy,_

_Mephistopheles _

He fell asleep with the note tucked under his pillow.

...

**A/N: Yeah, Mephistopheles is weird, I know. And Faust likes to eat fish eggs and sleep with people! Brilliant character development, huh? And besides the weird main characters, we got to meet some Puffs! This was a fun chapter, so I hope you liked it:D**


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